


Certified Organic

by metrophobic



Series: SP Kink Meme Revival [2]
Category: South Park
Genre: Awkward Top Craig, Bratty Bottom Tweek, Coffee Enema, Enemas, Forced Masturbation, Humiliation, M/M, Passive Aggressive Praise, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punishment play, REALLY nasty boys who are in love, this is pretty nasty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 14:36:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14059080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metrophobic/pseuds/metrophobic
Summary: Tweek Bros. is rolling out a new product, and Tweek is tasked with testing it out. Since he's nervous, Craig decides some fun roleplay will make him feel better. BTW the product is an enema. Just in case that wasn't obvious. Thanks for coming to my TED talk.





	Certified Organic

**Author's Note:**

> [Kink meme](http://southparkkinkmeme.tumblr.com) prompt: "Lord forgive me but, Creek coffee enema. This has been haunting me for months, I’m so sorry."
> 
> They're like, 23 in this and have their own place. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Just when I think to myself, you can't get any grosser my dude, I go and outdo myself.

“I just don’t get it.”

“What’s there to understand?” Tweek finished pouring the ground beans into the filter and turned on the coffee machine. “It’s a new product. A new product that Dad— _ah,_ Dad wants me to test it out.”

Craig watched the coffee slowly drip into the pot. It seemed as normal a routine as ever, except: “And you test it with your ass.”

“ _Agh!_ Grow up, Craig.” Tweek grit his teeth and shook his head, unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“It’s just weird to me.”

“You’ve seriously never— n-never heard of a fucking coffee enema? You’re gayer than I am, man!”

“Gayness doesn’t come in _degrees,_ ” Craig snapped back. Tweek couldn’t help but laugh at that. He leaned in to press a kiss to Craig’s cheek.

“Yeah. I gotta go— um, clear out first, _hah._ Can you watch this for me?”

“I’d rather watch you.”

“ _What?!_ ” As soon as Tweek blurted that out, he caught sight of the grin slowly making its way over his face. He dragged in a deep breath, and promptly socked his partner in the shoulder.

“Ow.”

“Fuck off, asswipe,” said Tweek, and he headed up the stairs without further ado. Craig didn’t follow after him, thank _god._ He already had the first mixture—just warm water, essential oil, and a bit of sea salt—ready and waiting in the master bathroom, the rubber bag full and ready on its hook.

Around twenty minutes later he headed back downstairs, wrapped in a towel and cleansed inside and out, emptied bag in his hands. Craig was sitting at the kitchen table dicking around on his phone, the coffee pot full and unattended. Tweek eyed it with no small amount of trepidation—perhaps even literally, since he felt Craig’s eyes on him. “Honey?” Craig prompted. “You’re shaking.”

“Oh, god,” Tweek muttered, and swiped a hand through his hair. His lips had gone dry and he darted his tongue over them. “It’s just— it’s a lot. Wow, that’s a lot, man.” His stomach still cramped a bit from the first enema, and he grabbed the silvery bag that the coffee beans came in, skimming the instructions on the back label for what felt like the twentieth time.

“Yeah,” Craig agreed. “You don’t have to do this. Just tell your dad to fuck off. I’ll even do it for you—”

“ _Craig,_ ” Tweek huffed, and held up a hand to silence him. “Stop, okay? I’m not backing out now.” He plugged up the sink and turned on the cold water, then proceeded to fill the enema bag with the pot’s contents. His hand shook violently when it was about halfway poured in, splashing against his wrist. He yelped.

“Babe.” Craig sighed, and then he was there, prying the coffee pot out of Tweek’s hands. Tweek let him, a little sulkily. “Just hold the bag still, okay?” There was an edge of resignation in his voice. He slowly tipped the glass pot forward and dutifully poured the rest in, while Tweek gripped the bag firm enough to stop his hands from quivering. Once it was full, he screwed it tightly shut and submerged it in the sink. The cold water felt nice against the scalding he’d just gotten. Tweek exhaled slowly.

Truth be told, he really _hadn’t_ done anything like this before. In fact, this was the first time he’d even taken a normal enema while Craig was home at the same time. It was his own private thing, his own bizarre little ritual when it came not only to cleaning himself out, but a personal challenge: how much could he take in, this time? How long could he hold it? Could he take more than before? _Would_ he take more, the next time? Sometimes he played with himself, feeling how full his stomach had gotten and letting his hand drift lower while he imagined Craig petting him, telling him how good he was, a good clean boy. He always wanted to be clean for him. Clean, so that he’d appreciate him more when he was filthy. No amount of pills or soap on his tongue or holistic mixtures in his rectum would ever rid Tweek of the darker things that lurked in him—if his brain could be pictured as a room, it’d be tucked away neatly in every corner, the darkness. It never seemed to stop Craig from sitting in the center. Somehow, Tweek owed it to him.

To be clean.

But this was different. This was beyond Tweek’s element, because it’d been such an integral part of his life—the family business and its wares—and it was about to open a door that he knew would never be closed again. He was as excited about the prospect as he was disgusted. It wasn’t like the concept was _too_ outlandish. Coffee enemas were for granola-crunchers, for health-obsessed hippie nutjobs, and he sure as Hell wasn’t one of them. No, his father fit that bill, to a _T._ Tweek never asked him, though, if _he_ was into flooding his bowels with the smooth, bold flavour of a laughing brook running through a mountain in springtime.

He kind of really didn’t want to know.

“Hey.” Tweek jumped, shaken from his thoughts. Craig’s voice was at his ear, pressed up against Tweek’s back as strong arms wound around his middle. He rested his chin over a shoulder. “I was looking up some stuff because I got bored.”

“What do you _mean?_ ” Tweek’s brow furrowed as he turned his head in an effort to see his partner’s face. Craig straightened up, though he didn’t let go of the embrace.

“I wanna play a game,” Craig stated. Was that a fucking gleam in his eye, or just the reflection of the kitchen sink? Still, Tweek felt a little twinge in the pit of his stomach—a _good_ one—and he drew in a breath.

“ _What_ kind of game, Craig? I gotta start this soon.”

“Hm.” Craig reached for Tweek’s arms, and caught him by the wrists, pulled them behind his back. Another twinge, this one far lower. “You were a bad boy,” Craig continued, his voice almost comically flat, but Tweek loved it anyway—and him. “Really bad, and you deserve more than just a spanking this time.”

“ _Ah,_ Jesus…” Tweek felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He didn’t even bother to fight his way out of Craig’s grip, but he did push his body forward slightly, indicating the bag with a toss of his head. It was likely ready by then. “Like— like what?”

Craig held Tweek’s bony wrists together in one of his large hands, and reached over with the other to test the water, patting the bag carefully. “This seems like it’s ready,” he said, and fished it out of the water. “Now we’re going upstairs.”

Tweek had no idea if the strange dark mixture really was cooled sufficiently. It was left entirely in Craig’s hands. And, god, did he love that idea. His belly tingled with delight as Craig led him through the kitchen and living room toward the staircase, and then up the stairs. “What— _nnnh,_ what are you going to do to me?”

“Be quiet,” said Craig. “Eyes down until we get to the bathroom. And you call me ‘Sir’.”

“Yes, Sir,” Tweek whispered meekly, dropping his gaze. True to his word, he didn’t look up until they reached the bathroom, and Craig released his wrists. He pushed the door shut behind them, promptly locked it, and leaned back against it.

“First,” he ordered, “the towel. Take it off.” Tweek chewed on his bottom lip, but he did as he was told, and let it fall to the floor. He was half-hard already. Craig held out the bag to him. “You’re going to set this up.”

“But—” Tweek swallowed thickly as he took the bag in his hands. He already knew that this little impromptu scene of theirs was going to involve what he’d set out to do—that had been obvious from the get-go—yet somehow, Craig’s imposing presence in the bathroom, the closed door, the weight of the bag in his hands and what he knew it contained: all of it was truly sinking in. It was becoming _real._ Craig was really going to see him like this. He shot his boyfriend a pleading look that may not have been entirely pretend. “Please don’t make me do this,” he said quietly, “— _ah,_ Sir.”

But Craig only inclined his head toward the shower rod, where Tweek knew he must have caught sight of the hook hanging there. “Go,” he said. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

Tweek whimpered quietly, and padded over to the counter where he’d carefully laid the tubing to rest. He attached it to the bag, smoothed his fingers down the length of it and carefully clipped it in the middle to prevent it from leaking until it was time.

Until it was time. _Fuck._

He cast a glance over his shoulder, knowing he must have looked pathetic. “Please,” he whispered again.

“Are you done,” Craig deadpanned his question. “I don’t think you’re done.”

Tweek quickly shook his head, and then he hung the bag up carefully on its hook, watching it bulge and sway. Maybe it wasn’t so much after all: once it settled, it only seemed to take up slightly more than half the bag. Either way, gravity would do its job, and Tweek felt a flutter in his stomach. This wasn’t private, not anymore. He hadn’t even put the damn nozzle inside himself yet, and he already felt invaded.

He didn’t want it to stop.

“Now what,” Craig prompted. Tweek stared down at his feet.

“I— I lube up the— this,” he murmured, indicating the small bulb on the end of the hose that tapered at the end. Ease of entry, and then it would be trapped in him, safely trapped, to hold in everything else that went along with it.

“That goes inside you?”

Tweek felt himself flush again. He nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Give me it.” Craig crossed the distance between them and took the nozzle from Tweek’s hand. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor.

“Sir,” Tweek whined softly. “Please don’t make me do this. I’ll be good. I’ll be good from now on.”

“Get down on the floor,” Craig ordered, like he hadn’t heard a single word. “Eyes down, too.”

“Oh, fuck,” Tweek whimpered again, and then he did as he was told, kneeling down carefully and then bending so that his ass was in the air. “Sir, please.” A little sob fell from his throat when he heard the sloppy wet noises of lubrication. “Please, please… please, Sir, please.” Craig remained silent, not even registering any kind of acknowledgement as he came up behind Tweek, and then it was prodding at his hole: the rounded tip, and it almost felt like a tease. He whined and clenched his cheeks together. “Don’t,” he choked out. “Sir, don’t.”

“Open your ass up,” Craig said firmly. “Stop being difficult.”

He did. The nozzle pressed against his hole, and Tweek felt it twisting slightly against the ring of muscle. He bore down and groaned softly, hands pressed over his face, which had gone on fire. The bulb slipped up into him and his asshole closed around it. Tweek shuddered.

“What makes it start,” Craig asked. Tweek didn’t answer him with words, only ducked his head lower, in shame, his thighs trembling. Craig slapped him once, on the ass, and he jumped with a cry. “What makes it start, Tweek,” Craig repeated.

Tweek let out another sob. “The— the clamp, Sir, it— when you release the clamp on the hose. It’ll go through. _Nnh…_ ” He closed his eyes and braced himself. Craig was fiddling around behind him, and he felt the nozzle twitch inside him with the movement of the tubing. In spite of the predicament he was in, the movement of the bulb also stimulated his hole a little, and he moaned softly.

There was a _click,_ oh Christ, that _click,_ and then it was trickling into him, it was going in him. The cold water from the sink and the moments that followed, they seemed to do their trick, because it was warm—just barely above lukewarm, like the moment the hot water in the shower would start to run out if he spaced for too long—but somehow, knowing what it was made him feel that much more vulnerable. Coffee, fucking _coffee,_ both the bane and delight of his worthless existence, and it wasn’t enough that he drank it like water but it had to go in his ass, too. He was actually pouring coffee up his ass. He’d truly sunken that low.

Tweek’s hands clenched in the towel. The warm liquid spread up through his rectum and further, and even though the bulb would prevent any accidents from occurring, he still couldn’t stop the natural reaction to clench up. He was already starting to feel full. He groaned quietly, feeling Craig’s eyes on him. That was the worst part of all of this. Craig was watching it all, he knew without even looking, because he’d never seen this side of Tweek before. The side that would sometimes slide a toy—or even, on occasion, Craig’s dick—into his ass, certainly. The side that would fill his bowels with unmentionable fluids to inevitably flush it all out again? He didn’t think it would ever come to this.

He didn’t think it would be that fucking easy. _I wanna play a game._ What a fucking joke. Tears pricked at Tweek’s lashes, but he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and refused to let them fall.

“ _Ohhh,_ ” he moaned. It looked like a lot in the coffee pot, and then it didn’t once it was in the bag, but it certainly _felt_  like a lot—like he’d taken in even more than the one he used earlier to prepare himself. His fingers spread out over the terricloth, and then clenched again when he did down below, the pace of his breathing shifting into little hurried gasps for air.

“Too much?” Craig asked, and his voice was a little softer than it had been, which meant he was probably straddling the lines between reality and playing pretend, concern leaking through. That was all right with Tweek, because he’d been threatening to tip off that very tightrope, too.

“How much have I taken,” he managed to ask, neither confirming nor denying Craig’s inquiry, though he quickly added at the end, “Sir.” He heard Craig tap the bag, the liquid inside sloshing around. It sounded like _so much._

“There’s still a lot left,” said Craig. Tweek groaned and pressed his cheek against the floor, softened by the towel. In spite of this, he didn’t want it to end. He _had_ to take it all, and he would.

“ _U_ _gh_ — I’m starting to feel full, Sir,” he said quietly. Craig rested a hand against his lower back.

“You can take more of it,” he said. “I believe in you.” Tweek twisted his bottom lip in his teeth and hissed quietly. “You’re not gonna let any out,” Craig continued, “right?”

“No, Sir,” Tweek said. He wouldn’t, the bulb’s thickness would prevent that—wouldn’t it? Suddenly, Tweek was feeling a little less sure of himself. He clenched his ass up again and felt his dick twitch.

“That’s right,” Craig said, rubbing his back. “You’re a good boy and you can take it. You’re gonna take all of it, because you said you’d be good. Right?”

“I’m good,” Tweek choked out, and then he felt it: the tears were starting to fall. He quickly swiped at them with the back of his hand and hoped, _prayed_ that Craig didn’t see them. “Y-yeah, yes, Sir. I’m good. I want to be _good._ ”

“You’re gonna be good,” Craig said again, and then he was speaking more tenderly, nosing against his ear. “You’re gonna take it all. Just breathe nice and slow, honey.” Tweek nodded and choked something else out, he didn’t even know what he was trying to say, but Craig seemed to get it anyway. He kissed the back of his ear and brought his hand down to his belly, stroking in slow circles.

“Cr— _ah,_ Sir,” Tweek fussed quietly. “I c— I can’t, I—”

“ _Shhh._ Yes you can. Yes you can.” Craig pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Please—”

“Almost,” said Craig. “You’ve almost got it now. There’s about a quarter left. You’re doing so well, and you’re gonna take it all. It’s all gonna be in you.”

“ _Uuugh,_ ” Tweek whined and pressed his face into the towel again. “I don’t know, I don’t know, Sir, I can’t, my tummy hurts—” He swallowed hard. His stomach gurgled lightly. It was embarrassing. Almost as embarrassing as the erection he was sporting. It was too much at once, and Craig’s touch was soothing, a little, but it also just served to make him feel even more filthy. Even more filthy, because he liked this. He liked Craig’s condescending little words that were disguised as sweet things, and he liked being embarrassed, and he wanted to hear more of them.

“I know it hurts,” Craig said softly, “but you’re gonna take it. You wanted to be good again, so you have to take it.”

The slow, steady stream faded into a trickle, and then the flow stopped entirely. Tweek almost couldn’t tell the difference anymore. Craig patted him on the back. “Is it— did I—”

“Yeah,” said Craig. “You got it all. But now you have to hold it in for a while.”

“I don’t know if I can, Sir,” Tweek protested. “I feel like I’m gonna explode.”

“Well,” Craig replied, “you’re gonna have to.” Tweek groaned and pressed his legs together.

“I’m so full,” he whispered helplessly. “Sir, I’m so full…”

“I bet you are.” Craig was rubbing his front again. He moved down beneath his navel, almost far enough to touch, _almost_ — but then his hand slid back upwards again. “Your stomach keeps growling,” he pointed out, as if it were endearing.

“Because I’m _full,_ Sir,” Tweek said again, meekly, but this time it was above a whisper.

“And you like it, don’t you,” Craig continued, still caressing his belly in slow circles. “You like being full. Look how hard you are, baby.” Tweek flushed all over—or at least, that’s how it felt.

“N-no,” he choked out, weakly, because it was true and he knew it.

“Yes,” Craig said patiently, and then whispered into his ear. “Yes you are. You like being full.” Tweek sobbed again.

“Sir, please,” he begged, and for what, he didn’t even know anymore. “Please, I— I can’t stand it. I can’t stand it.”

“Can’t stand what,” Craig asked. “That you need to come, or you need to use the toilet?”

“Stop it,” Tweek hissed through clenched teeth, shaking all over. “Stop it, please, Sir.”

“Yeah, you need to go, don’t you?” His voice was still quiet, but it was mocking him. It was mocking him, and not even trying to cover it up. “I wanna hear you say it. What you need to do.”

“I need to—” Tweek groaned again and buried his face into the towels. “Sir, please, let me go.”

“I need you to say it, babe,” Craig said again. “What do you need to do.”

“Jesus Christ, _ah,_ Sir— don’t make me say it. Please, please don’t make me say it. Just let me go, Sir, _please._ ”

“Nope,” Craig kissed the back of his neck. “I want to hear you say it. Good boys do what they’re told.”

“I need to— _nnh_ — _mmmmgh,_ Sir, I can’t. I can’t say it.”

“You’re a big boy,” said Craig. “You’re a grown-up. You can say it.”

“I, _agh._ I need to… I need to shit, okay? I need to shit. Please, Sir!”

“Not yet,” Craig said, and Tweek could _hear_ the fucking smirk in his tone. He sobbed and pulled away from him, curling up tight on his side and twisting his fingers into his hair. His face was hidden in his arms. Craig didn’t try to stop him, only shifted his weight, and gently patted his back. “You _are_ being punished, after all,” he continued. “And you like it. You’re a bad boy who likes being punished.”

“Uh-huh,” Tweek moaned pathetically. “I’m a bad boy and I like when you’re mean. _Nnngh._ ”

“Yeah, you’re my twisted little fuck, aren’t you. God, look at you, you’re so fucked up. Who even does that? Who gets hard from this weird crap?” Craig scoffed.

“Me,” Tweek whispered, and then moaned out, “ _me._ ”

“Yeah, you. C’mon, I want to see it. You like being full? You need to jack off.”

“ _Now?_ ” Tweek gasped out, disbelieving. Craig slapped him on the ass again, and he harshly jerked away with a small cry. It felt like _everything_ was stirring inside him, and his cock throbbed. This was so, so fucked up, and Craig had been right: he did need to come, because he was about to lose his fucking mind, in a way that went beyond the precipice he already balanced himself upon on a daily basis.

“Yes, now,” Craig said. “Go on. Start jacking off. Make yourself come, you sick little freak. I know you want to. Lick your hand.”

“ _Ahhh, god_ —” Tweek pressed a palm to his mouth, lifelines under his tongue, trying to make it as wet as possible, to slicken his grip as he took himself in hand without being prompted further.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Craig growled out. “C’mon, babe, jerk off for me.”

“ _Fuck,_ ” he cried, fist wrapping tight around himself. He stroked himself in quick, jerking motions, rocking his hips into it. “ _Ngh_ — _ghaah_ —!”

“Yeah, that’s my nasty little freak. Yeah, just like that.” Craig’s voice was getting as breathless and desperate as if _he_ were touching himself, too, but there weren’t the telltale hitches of breath or the little rhythmic noises that indicated he was in motion. He was sitting there, leaning over Tweek, fascinated, enthralled, encouraging him, and Tweek knew he loved this too. He knew he was just as disgusting and weird as he was, and he loved him, _so_ fucking much. “You’ll come from this, got a fucking boner from being _so full,_ and now you’re gonna come from it. Aren’t you? You’re gonna come, babe, yeah, let’s see you come. Keep jacking that dick. I want to see you actually come from this.”

Tweek couldn’t say anything else, couldn’t form any coherent sentences or fragments or, shit, even _words,_ not even his lover’s goddamn _name_ — though he did try. “ _Cr_ —!” He couldn’t breathe, he was coming so hard, it choked him off entirely: he was only vaguely aware of splashing up over his hand, and onto the towel, and his chest, and his stomach. His head fell back and he forgot, for a split second, that he even _had_ anything inside him, or even that he existed. Craig’s hand was wrapped around his as he slowed down, getting those last few strokes in, pushing out the last bit of come.

“Wow,” said Craig. Tweek felt his fingertips gently smooth the mussed bangs away from his forehead, and then he tenderly kissed it.

“ _Mmm,_ ” Tweek went back at him, nuzzling in his general direction. Craig tucked a few stray locks behind his ear.

“Okay, honey,” he said lovingly. “Let’s get this stuff out of you.” Tweek’s eyes shot open.

Oh, right. He still had his vital organs to tend to.

Craig chuckled fondly and kissed the top of Tweek’s head. Tweek felt his hand run down the bottom of his spine, all the way to the hose—and then a light tug down below, threatening to pull the nozzle free. He yipped and tried to squirm away without dislodging the barrier within himself. Even the slightest movement compounded the feeling of fullness there, the feeling that he’d lose it at any second. Craig let out a little huff of air, another barely-perceptible laugh, and did it again. “ _No,_ ” Tweek cried, pushing at him. “Please, no!”

“What’s the problem?” Craig stroked his hair with his other hand. “I thought you needed to relieve yourself.”

“I—” Tweek shivered, and raked his hands through his hair, gripping at his own ears. “I do, I _do_ need to but I— _nnnnot_ like this, not like this, Sir, please.”

“All right, all right.” Craig patted his flank, pressed a kiss to Tweek’s shoulder, and then stood up. Tweek whimpered in desperation as the hose twitched inside him, and then the tension was gone: Craig had unhooked it from the bag. Tweek mewled helplessly as the last lingering bit dripped down into him. “You can go now, babe,” Craig said, as casually as if he’d just freed the bathroom up himself.

The only problem was: he hadn’t. Tweek wasn’t free, the door hadn’t opened, and Craig was still there.

Gingerly, he rose to his feet, and gasped as everything shifted inside him. The fullness came on him with a newfound urgency. He quickly waved his hands. “Okay, _okay_. I’m gonna go now.”

“Yep,” said Craig. “Just go right ahead.”

“ _Gah,_ you’re still _in here,_ ” Tweek choked out, eyes wide and incredulous. “Go _away!_ ”

“No,” Craig said, with a nasty little smile that made Tweek’s head swim. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“ _Craig,_ ” Tweek whined, and then a little more quietly, but no less plaintive: “ _Sir._ ”

“You better get on that toilet, before you make a mess,” Craig said. The dirty, vulgar side was gone again, replaced once more by the gentle but stern commander. Tweek groaned—he really _couldn’t_ take it anymore—so he hobbled over to straddle the toilet and promptly reached down between his legs. He couldn’t look Craig in the eye when he did it, dizzy from the sudden rush of shame and the endorphins that still flooded him from the very intense orgasm he’d succumbed to a moment ago.

The bulb came out, and with it, a gush of fluid. Tweek gasped, and the natural instinct to clench up and keep holding it in took over, trapped by the knowledge that Craig was right there fucking _watching_ him. Even though he’d cleaned himself out before, and was essentially just eliminating the coffee from his insides, it _was_ still spilling out of his bowels, and that was enough to feel like something intensely private. Something intensely private that was swiftly being invaded.

“I know that’s not all of it,” Craig said gently. Tweek was sweating at this point, he could feel it on his brow and under his arms, both from exertion and nerves. His throat was dry.

He shook his head quickly.

“C’mon, babe,” Craig cooed at him, coming up close and reaching out to stroke his hair. “Just relax and let it go. You’ve been such a good sport.”

“Oh, god,” Tweek whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m… I’m embarrassed, Sir.”

“I know you are,” Craig said. “That’s why I’m making you do it.” Tweek whined loudly. “ _Shhh._ The longer you complain, the more you drag it out.” Craig was still petting him, and in spite of himself, Tweek had to fight back the urge to nuzzle into his hand.

“Fuck,” he hissed. Craig was right. He drew in a couple of breaths and tried to just _breathe,_ normally, willing himself to relax. A thin stream of piss dribbled from the end of his cock, and then the coffee that swelled his gut began to follow suit. The nearly overwhelming pleasure of relief overtook him, then, and he sighed, letting it all run out of him. He didn’t even need to push.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Craig grunted at him. His voice had gotten strained. There they were: those telltale, rhythmic hitches of breath. “ _Nn_ — you’re a good boy, so good, _so_ good…”

“Are you _jerking off?!_ ” Tweek’s eyes flew open, jaw dropping in disbelief. He turned his head to confirm this for himself, and found himself face-to-face with Craig’s hard dick. It brushed against the bridge of his nose, twitching with the hurried movements of his fist.

He sure fucking was.

“Just keep going,” Craig said hurriedly. “Keep letting it out.” Tweek hadn’t stopped in the first place. “Feels… good, to get it out, baby? To relieve yourself?”

“Uh-huh.” Tweek’s eyes slid closed again. He sighed again, absolutely basking in the relief that washed over him like sunlight, and Craig groaned quietly in response.

“Yeah, _fuck._ Keep your eyes closed,” he said quickly. “Gonna come on you.” Before Tweek could even process what Craig meant by that, there was the first splash on his cheek, and then more, Craig smearing it all over him and making those sexy little noises that always made Tweek’s stomach flutter whether or not he’d just gotten off himself. Then the twist of a tap, the running of the sink, and Tweek brought a hand up while he waited to swipe up a bit of Craig’s mess. He was licking his fingertip clean when he felt the warm, wet towel over his face. Tweek opened his eyes when it was gone, and then leaned in to kiss his boyfriend on the mouth, both of them immediately parting their lips and stroking their tongues together.

“You’re disgusting,” Tweek whispered, grinning like a drunken man. “You’re sick, Craig.”

“Not as sick as you,” Craig murmured back, with a few light pecks to his lips. “My sick little freak.”

“Mmhmm,” Tweek hummed happily, tucking a final kiss to his chin before reaching for the wipes.

“All done?”

Tweek nodded. Maybe it was the combination of relief, endorphins and the rush of caffeine absorbed into his system, but he felt fucking incredible. Almost like he was high. He stood up after flushing the toilet and stretched like a cat, long and languorous, popped a few bones in his spine with a satisfied groan, and then headed for the sink to wash his hands. Behind him, he heard Craig properly readjust his dick back into his pants. “You can’t watch me take a crap from now on,” Tweek decided to point out, just for the record. “That was a one-time thing.”

“It was the blissful look on your face,” Craig defended. It was his turn to sound embarrassed. “It was hot. I’m not _that_ weird.”

“Yes you are,” retorted Tweek, and cast a playful grin at him over his shoulder. Craig swatted at him, somewhere in the vicinity of his ass, but Tweek was too quick for him this time. “I’m gonna crawl into bed,” he announced after darting into their bedroom.

“Okay,” Craig replied. “Just give me a minute to clean this stuff up.”

“No!” Tweek protested. “ _Now._ ”

“Yes, honey.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come join us at the [SP Kink Meme](http://southparkkinkmeme.tumblr.com), now revived in a spanking new Tumblr format! We don't kink shame and we like gross things.
> 
> Also, feel free to follow and/or kink shame me on [Tumblr.](http://metroph0bic.tumblr.com)


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